Deco's Department Store: Pt 1

Anecdotes Of A Magical Department Store
By ThatGuy

This Claimer: This story is highly transformative in it's nature. If that's not your thing, try something else. Without further ado:

Part 1: Morning

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7:00 AM

It's not that I don't like my job, because I really, really do. But in my kind of work, it always seems like it's just one random issue after another. It never ends, really.

Case in point, here I am on my way to open up shop for the morning and there's already someone sitting around waiting for me.

"Sir!" He said, before I could muster a greeting. He was a pompous, posh looking man who somehow managed to keep his nose in the air while looking directly at me. Great. I just love those types first thing in the morning. "I demand you fix this!"

"I assume you have a complaint?" Even in moments of extreme aggravation, it costs nothing to be polite.

"You can bet I do, you swindler!" Of course, not everyone can be bothered with such things as courtesy, "Your defective product ruined by mother's birthday party!"

Sigh… this was one of those complaints."I sold you that ToyBoxer two weeks ago. There's no way it broke so soon, unless you tossed it off a building or something."

"Well, then, why don't you explain why the all the figurines I made for my poor mother all turned back in the middle of cake? They rampaged around, scrambled out the house and ruined the whole night!"

I had a good idea, actually. "Well, how did you get them?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, I just ran into a few homeless tramps and used them. Probably shouldn't have, though. I think some stole the silverware."

I scowled, but otherwise refrained from letting my irritation show. "Well, as you may or may not be aware, due to legal concerns I cannot knowingly permanently transform a person without some kind of consent," I neglected to mention that the consent didn't necessarily have to be strong - and accidents can and do happen - but I was laughing on the inside nonetheless, "That includes the effects of transformative items I sell here: they're all temporary unless allowed to be otherwise," I smirked, but my face dropped when mirrored it.

"Oh, come on. A transformation freak like yourself wouldn't mind fudging the rules a bit, right?" Tempting, but I don't feel like losing my business. Teaching a jerk customer a lesson, however...

"Well, I could," I gave him my best devious grin, "I haven't done it in a while… let me start with you!"

He had the best look of mortified shock on his face as I worked my magic. Before he could react, though, he shrunk down, clothes and all, until all that was left was a small plastic bobblehead.

I laughed as I picked him up and stuffed him in my bag. I'd turn him back later, after I felt he learned a thing or two.

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7:45 AM

After that delightful way to start the day, you can hardly blame me for being a little grumpy whilst taking stock, but I know what you're going to say: that's no excuse for kicking Tickle-Me-Anastasia after I tripped that one time. Annie didn't deserve that.

Anyway, I was feeling down, tired, and irked - normal day, really - so I decided to just sit at my counter and calm myself by surveying the store. It's only now, before all the hustle and bustle, that I can really sit back and get an appreciation for how big this place is.

By far our biggest sections are Furniture and Clothing. In fact, I'd go so far as to say the rest of the parts of the store are barely even consequential - I certainly can't remember what they are (I think we used to sell fish…). Between people we get changed in the store, and donations from the odd generous mage or two and actual products we get delivered (yes, we do actually sell normal merchandise. Some customers never even realize most products used to be people in the first place), we're almost never out of stock.

And, of course, our last contributors are the Transformative Companies that mass change stock around the globe. Feh. Sensational brand names. Last and certainly the least. Personally, I prefer to do my own work, but I still have to do some business with them sometimes - the price of being a part of the Transformative Trading Union, I guess.

I yawned, snapping myself out of my musings. I know, right? I only just started the day and I'm already tired - I looked over to the Furniture section, wondering if I could chance a nap on my favorite bed - sad case, really: it used to be a girl who ended up paraplegic in a terrible car accident. She came into the store wanting to leave her disability behind, and now she's the most comfortable bed I've ever had the pleasure of sleeping on (I swear, if I didn't have my unbearably firm ex-girlfriend at home I'd take her home myself).

But I digress: I was looking over to see if I could sneak a nap when who walks in just in time to dash my dreams, literally, but my two assistants.

Well, to be precise, I've only got one assistant. Winslow's a temp, sort of. He's your average department store employee - tall, bespectacled, good at organizing, taking inventory, helping customers, etc. Vanessa's my real assistant… I guess the official term is apprentice, but I'm way too young to have one of those. Call her a student. She's the daughter of a friend of mine, and I'm teaching her the tricks of the trade, you might say, so she can open a place of her own someday. Real sentimental stuff.

"Hey bossman!" she said, a little too chipper for seven AM. I glared. "Oooh. Someone wake up on the wrong side of the ex-girlfriend this morning?"

"Don't start…" I groaned, "I swears she's somehow getting revenge for that time I stood her up on our anniversary."

"Don't let it get you down, Deco," Winslow was already checking around the shop. I knew I hired him for a reason. "Maybe sometime today you can sneak of and catch a nap one of the queen-sizes over here. Were any of 'em real queens, by the way?"

"Queen of the Mardi Gras, maybe," good to know no matter how down I get my assistants can always bring a smile to my face. I turned to Vanessa. "So, grasshopper, how was your weekend? Get some practice in?"

"A little," Bless her heart, I didn't even have to ask for the juicy details, "Went to the mall with some of my girls, y'know? Some snob started talking trash about my outfit, so I turned her into my new sandals. Shame I couldn't wear her to work."

I raised an eyebrow. She rolled her eyes, flicking her locks back with an annoyed air. I don't think I'm doing too well enforcing the student-teacher relationship. "Oh, don't look at me like that, I'll turn her back… eventually."

I grinned. "Oh, don't worry about it. What you do in your free time isn't my business," I gave her my trademark wink, though a little less enthusiastic given that it was early in the morning. "Just don't get caught. Wish my weekend was so interesting."

I must have pulled off an impressive pout, because Winslow was quick to comfort me.

"Ah, don't worry, Deco," he grinned, "Don't forget, today's the big inspection!"

Ah yes, the annual Inspection by the Transformative Union. If anything could cheer me up, that could: the Inspector was a close personal friend.

"Aha! That's right! Well, what are you waiting for!" I yelled at my lounging lackeys, "We've got an inspection to look ship shape for! Hop to it!"

"Aye aye, sir!" they said in unison (I still don't know how they do that), and sped off to do whatever menial job I'm too important to do myself (being the boss has perks).

I sighed again, but this time with a huge smile on my face. The rest of the day couldn't come fast enough.

----

9:12 AM

So my loyal minions… I mean employees, went to work getting the place halfway presentable. You know, organizing the vases in order of last name, making sure there's no stray clothes or anything near the recent transformees (last week a customer found some expensive looking earrings pierced in his sofa pillows, though that's not anywhere near as awkward as the time that old woman found a high heel shoe lodged in the plumbing of her brand new sink), the necessary stuff that nevertheless somehow never gets done usually.

Maybe we should have inspections more often.

Anyway, an hour or so later we got our first customers. Mostly people coming in to shop for beds, baths and beyond, but among them were a couple of regulars I was glad to see again: Susan and Andie, a pair of roommates with a serious love for transforming themselves and others. And luckily for them, I not only sell things that used to be people, but I like to rent out widgets that people can use to transform themselves as well.

"Thanks for the gizmo, Deco! We got a lot of use out it," said Andie, a petite, pigtailed brunette, handing me the Magic Molding Kit. A nice little gadget of my own invention: included in the kit are the tools to turn anything completely into whatever material you want, the heater melt them down and molds to put them in a variety of shapes, as well as the means to revert things back. With the way those two roll, I can only guess as to what kind of hijinks they got up to. "I must've worn Susan here as at least twenty different times, it was awesome."

"Twenty times, yeah right. Little Miss Style here never even bothered to wear something real," retorted Susan, a relatively tall, toned blonde, "She must've changed me into, like, three or four different styles of leather or spandex or whatever else every day. It was really crazy." She rounded on her sheepish friend, "And don't think I won't tell everyone about how you thought you could get attention by making me into your platform shoes."

"Oh, come on, it wasn't that obvious… was it?"

"I was at least a foot tall. We looked ridiculous."

"Wait, back up, did you say three or four different outfits a day?" I said, a little concerned.

"Yeah, but don't worry, I got her back for it big time. The last couple days I've had her as every thing I wanted, from my comb in the morning to my comforter at night. I'm especially going to miss my special custom set of dumbbells," she said, smirking. Andie stuck out her tongue at her. "So, anyway, please tell me you got the Furniturizer back in…"

The Furniturizer is another gadget I sell for people who like to transform in their spare time. It looks like a remote, but with it you can temporary turn anyone into any kind of furniture you want, in any style you want, plus you're not limited to material you can mold, like with the Molding Kit - you can turn anything into anything. Doesn't have quite the range or power that I, myself have (don't want to put myself out of business, y'know?), but it's a nice party favor. In this case, however…

"Yeah, just came in two days ago," I said. The rest of my statement was nearly drowned out in the girls' cheering: "But you do know that changing yourself too often in a short amount of time can lead to accidental permanence, right?"

"Oh, come on, Deco," Andie scoffed, waving it off, "That never happens."

"Usually no… but in this case I-"

"So, how much for the Furniturizer?" Susan asked, ignoring me.

"$45.95, but I really think you should-"

Neither of them were listening. "Awesome! Here you go!" Andie said, handing me a fifty and grabbing the remote, "Keep the change. Oh, I can't wait to have you as my own comfy armchair."

"Yeah right," Susan yelled, wrestling the Furniturizer from her hands, "I'm going first this time. I think I'll start my making you something to heat up my car seat, it's getting a little chilly out there."

"No way!" Andie yelled, diving at her and nearly tackling her to the ground, "You're going to be my seat warmer."

"Ladies, ladies," I said resignedly as they bumped into an exquisite debutante mirror we had on display, "Try not to break my store, please? I don't think Ms. Glass wants to end up in pieces."

"Sorry Deco," they said together, and, thanking me again, they turned and left the store, arguing, fighting and teasing all the way.

Chuckling, I made a mental note to check up on those two: I'm willing to bet in just a few days I'll find an empty apartment and some suspiciously conspicuous chairs or something sitting around in the middle of the floor. Never hurts to have new merchandise.

----

10:06

What followed was an hour of relative monotony as customers came in, browsed, bought something, came in, browsed, bought something, came in browsed, bought something, over and over again.

Yep, highlight of interest, this business.

To be fair, usually it's pretty fun to see where our different wares end up: my favorite reading lamp - a great find, used to be a sulky bartender I met named Luna - got wrapped up as a wedding present, I think. A chess set with "almost real-looking" person shaped pieces went to a frumpy but wealthy looking gentleman, and Abelina the bookcase finally got sold to a local library (I was starting to worry). Yadda yadda, etcetera etcetera.

Always fun to note these things, but I was looking forward to something a lot more interesting. And it took almost an hour for it to happen.

There I was, selling what was almost our last box of Pitcher brand brownies (ten times better than Entemanns), when the door finally opened and she walked in.

Long red hair, round, cute face sporting brilliant brown eyes and a winning smile, dressed in her normal business suit (I swear she either never changes it or always buys the same one) and low heels, which of course to nothing but help her slim five foot four inch figure-

Not that I was staring, mind you. Cause I'm wasn't. I can prove it. Just ask the customer whose chest I shoved the brownies into.

Moving right along, she took a brief look around - she is an inspector, after all, it's her job - made sure all the store displays were in order, that kind of thing. Made a mark in her book when she noticed both of our only two mannequins' legs were on backwards - Winslow will pay - and all in all took an agonizingly long time to reach the counter.

"Hey Deco," she said with a smile, "long time no see, huh?"

"Hello Allyson," I smiled right back. Like I could do anything else. "Good to see you again."

She flashed me a knowing smirk. "Miss me?"

Darn, she must have noticed me staring. I mean… not staring. Yeah.

"Always," I said truthfully, "how've you been?"

"Not bad," she waved her hand , "Kind of boring actually. Nobody is quite as interesting to work with as you are."

"That's because nobody knows you like I do." Also true. Allyson and I go way back: I've never had an inspector that wasn't her, and for good reason. You try being inspected by someone you don't get along with, then go to someone who you just click with, and tell me there's not a difference.

"I suppose," she said thoughtfully, running her hand through her hair absently - one of those little things you notice about friends.

We engaged in a very brief and largely unimportant slew of small talk, inside jokes, and personal topics (I assured her that yes, I was unfortunately still sleeping on my ex-girlfriend. She assured me that, no, she hadn't given any thought to my request that she replace her), before she adopted that lofty tone that told me the inspection was about to begin.

"Alright, Deco," she said, pulling out her notebook again, "you know the drill by now."

"Right," I got up from the counter and gestured to the back of the store, "let's head to the store room. In fact, I'll meet you there, you ought to know the way. I've got to take care of the counter first."

"Good sense, Deco," she said playfully, putting a quick swoop in her book. "That'll net you a check for 'business sense.'"

"Aww, gee. Thanks."

As she briskly made her way through the aisles to the back, I assured her I would be right there before making my way to my unfortunate target.

"Winslow. Counter," I said curtly, pointing sharply to where I wanted him to go.

"Sure, boss!" He gave me a thumbs up and quickly strode towards the desk, though he only got two very quick steps away before I pulled him back.

"Oh, by the way," I said with a practiced malevolent airiness, "I noticed what you did with the mannequin. Very funny."

He gulped. He actually gulped. Damn, I'm good.

"R-really? Glad you think so."

He probably thought he was off the hook. Hah! No such luck. I smiled a very evil smile at him and he wilted like a daisy.

"Sure, sure. It was a riot. Gotta give the comedian his due credit, right?"

"Right…"

"Glad you agree. So, when their shifts end, you can explain to them why they can only walk backwards."

"W-wait! You're not going to let me turn their legs the right way?"

"Muhuhaha. See you in a few minutes," I said, walking away before he could stop me. I said damn, I'm good.

----

I found Allyson not-so-patiently waiting for me in the storeroom/employee lounge - amongst the boxes of old merchandise, boxes of new merchandise, and one or two people waiting around on our flat, uncomfortable sofa to become new merchandise - tapping her foot softly as she chatted casually with Vanessa - for all intents and purposes she looked like she wasn't bothered, but I know her well enough to know when she's getting impatient. Little things.

"Finish taking care of the counter?" she asked as I walked up to her.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, so what are we going to be doing, now?"

She rolled her eyes. Obviously apparent forgetfulness wasn't a sign of a good inspectee. Or maybe she knew I just wanted to hear her say it. "The Transformative Options Test, Deco. Remember? The thing we go through every time that you just can't wait to put me through?"

"Must have slipped my mind," I smiled. She glared.

"Yes, well, as you should know, I'll be personally going through the options you give to your transformed customers, to test their effectiveness, safety, the breadth of your transformative prowess, and so on. As you should know," she repeated.

"Personally, you say? Must be your favorite part of the job," I said with false casualness. She gave me another glare. I kept my face determinedly even.

"So, naturally, I'll need to know what you'll be doing to me this time. Any changes in what you offer? You're not going into any 'alternative' transformations like Agatha, are you?" she winced at the thought. Agatha runs one of the other stores in the neighborhood, which offers everything you can't get anywhere else. I think. No one's really sure.

"Oh, you know… the same old stuff," I reassured her, "conscious, unconscious, and everything in between. The 'think like an object' options been getting pretty popular recently, and loads of people do a mix between being lucid and altered." Remembering something else, I nearly grinned, "Oh… and I almost forgot. I'm offering something new these days: a more pleasurable change where you're stimulated nigh constantly, and even more when someone's touching you, sometimes so you can barely think for the feeling. A real fun package, y'know? The customers eat it up."

She turned as red as her hair. With experience born of years of practice, I kept my face straight.

"W-what?"

"Yeah. Not as crazy as some of stuff other companies shell out, but hey, it makes good business. But I'm you run into that all the time, right?" I happen to know very well that she doesn't deal with some of the more… "risque"… transformative business out there, but I laugh on the inside, not the outside. That's a good way to avoid a smack in the face, I've found.

"Erm… well… right..." she began, clearing her throat, "As you know, I'll need to test all of them... starting with that last one." She threw me a dirty look, "Just to get it out of the way."

"Naturally," I laughed. I had, of course, only mentioned that final option because I knew she would have to test it. "Vanessa and Winslow can deal with the changes. I'd love to do you myself, but it's about to get very busy around here, and it's best if I handle it."

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10:45 AM

That was no lie: a half hour later I was still sitting at the main counter, alternatively taking questions and requests and stroking our new display figurine (guess who) as vigorously as I could get away with without someone noticing. She came out a beautiful porcelain doll, with everything from her skeptic's eyes to her fiery hair painted so strongly you'd think it was real (heh). I'll have to congratulate Vanessa on her improving transforming skills (the last time she tried making a doll we got Tickle-Me-Anastasia… yeesh).

I was broken out of my admiration by yet another customer. "Excuse me, if I could separate you and that doll for just a moment?" I winced, perhaps I wasn't being as inconspicuous as I thought.

"Er… sorry. May I help you?"

The older woman swelled with what I assumed from her expensive dress was some kind of pride, "yes, well. I was grousing about your store and I found this. I'd like to buy it," she explained, holding up a bottle of patented all in one hair care / gel / conditioner.

"Ah, yes," I said, "we're almost out of that."

"This was the last one," she said, even more pompously than before, "I can understand why, from the look of it it looks like a great product. Whoever made it must have really known a thing or two about hair care."

I chuckled. "Yes… you might say that. $12. 75, please."

"Yes, thanks… oh, this is wonderful: my darling Poopsie will look so beautiful,"

"Poopsie?" I replied, wrong-footed.

"My pet poodle, of course!" she explained, with more stuffiness than I thought possible, "I simply must have him looking divine for the dog show tomorrow."

I briefly wondered what the girl who went into making that gel would say about the last of her being used on a dog of all things - she was a total diva - but hey, the customer is always right. Suppressing another chuckle I rang her up and bid her adieu, turning back to my prized porcelain doll.

"Well, I think that's about enough, don't you? Then again, you might be a little too overwhelmed at the moment to think at all," I grinned, giving the doll one last rub for good measure, "Let's go have Vanessa turn you back, shall we?"

----

11:00 AM

The change back went well enough, though it was still a bit of a shame to see those painted features meld back into soft skin. Well, sort of - it's not like the original isn't attractive, know what I mean? Especially with her…

…hrm… anyway. Where was I?

Oh yeah, so she turned back easy as pie. I was delighted to see as she reached her normal size that she was about as red as a cherry tomato. She spend quite a bit of time just staring at the wall, completely unresponsive - a sign of a successful jape if I ever saw one.

"So… how was it?" I grinned in her ear, after about ten minutes of catatonia.

"Very funny, Deco," she said, still red, but swiftly collecting herself, "I believe I've tested that particular change thoroughly enough."

"Alrighty, what's next?"

"Well," she began, clearing her throat (a thing she tends to do when she's nervous, agitated, or embarrassed. Guess which), "We still have the normal settings left. I suppose I'll do conscious next."

"Cool," said Vanessa, itching to test her skills again, "so, what should we make you into."

"Actually," she turned to my assistant, "Thank you, Vanessa, but you know I need to test Deco's transformative skills as well."

"You heard her," I said, a lot less gently, but with a wink all the same, "Get back to work. Hop to it!"

Vanessa groaned, but didn't complain as she stomped away towards the main store.

"She's getting better," Allyson said softly, still a little embarrassed.

"Don't I know it," I puffed my chest out in pride, "She'll be better than me in a few years. So… what should we make you into now?"

She rolled her eyes - what is with people and doing that to me today? "Can't decide? You're always like this - I swear you enjoy this way too much."

I pretended not to be listening. "…preferably something that be an… informative experience if you're conscious. We could always use a new mannequin - the ones we have now only work part time - and especially with that huge donation we just got from those two-"

She smirked, raising an eyebrow. "You do know I'm only going to be here for a few hours, right?"

"Wait, I've got it!" I grinned, ignoring her.

"What?" she asked, eyes wide: my sudden outburst caught her off guard.

"Well, recently I've been working on a new idea: a diary with a mind all its own. A friend you can share with and talk to - make yourself a personal gift for close friends and family, to be held close to their heart always, or a way for goodhearted people to touch the lives of others. A friend you can carry around in your pocket. Real sentimental stuff. Yadda yadda yadda. Got the idea from a book somewhere. So… wanna be my… er… prototype?"

She held her chin for a moment, thinking it over. Not surprising: after all, she's had experience with my "ideas." But she seemed to like this one. "Sounds good to me," she nodded, flashing me another smile. My heart nearly rose up out of my chest.

----

11:45 AM

The customers probably thought I was an oddball, dotingly writing in a diary right at the counter like I was. I couldn't help it, it was a very engaging conversation. We talked about this and that, and so on and so forth. I really have to commend myself with this idea, it really was like having a best friend you can carry around and talk to whenever you wanted. I almost didn't pay attention to the scores of customers I had as the day was reaching it's halfway point, and I think some kids laughed at me - joke's on them, though. That paintball set they rented includes a woman who babysits for a lot of the kids in the neighborhood (she's the paint, "instantly" (IE, magically) refillable - saves money to use one person), she's got a conscious transformation, and I'm sure they're not going to use those guns for just some innocent fun. Knowing them they're about to be in trouble.

But I digress. I almost didn't pay attention to my scores of vassals - I mean customers - but there were a couple who got my attention even so.

For example...

Around noon a young Asian woman walked in, and I immediately noticed she seemed very… anxious. Always looking around over a very heavy coat, as if someone might recognize her, or as though someone would find out some dirty little secret of hers just by looking at her.

I smiled softly, guessing what it might be about: lots of people were embarrassed about wanting to be transformed. I quickly wrote Alyson an apology, closed her with a snap, and put on my best helpful face.

"Can I help you?" I said as she slowly rushed to the counter (don't ask), a little loudly I suppose, because she winced and looked around sharply to see if anyone was listening in.

"Is.. um… this where you would go if…" she mumbled the rest so low I doubted an owl could hear her.

"Excuse me?"

"If you wanted to be… er…" she blushed deeply, "turned into chocolate."

I laughed loudly - it was quite a desire after all. However, it obviously didn't help things, as she just blushed even deeper, but that only made me chuckle more. She almost made her way to the door, but I managed to stop myself just in time.

"Sorry. Ahem. You're thinking of Willie's Candyshop. It's right around the corner. Take two lefts: you can't miss it."

She nodded and hurried away as fast as she could while still maintaining her timid sneakiness.

"Oh, and tell Willie Deco sent ya!" I yelled at her retreating form. I grinned - with any luck I'd be getting some free candy by the end of the day.

Smiling broadly, I opened Allyson - who, if she spell worked right, saw and heard everything - who already had a response lined up for me.

You sure do gets some live ones in here, don't you?

I could just see that smirk of hers in my head. Well, I had her number…

You should know. You're one of them.

I am not!

Yeah, right. You're not enjoying yourself at all, are you?

Er… no. Not to the extent you always seem to think I do. Besides… it's important to like your job.

Riiight…

Please. If you want a superfreak you should meet Brandy. She inspects some of the big factories, and she gushes about going through those machines so much it should be a crime.

Jealous much?

Deco…

Uh oh. Now I can see her glaring in my head, and it's not pretty. Maybe it's about time to wrap this up.

----

End Part 1